


Exchange

by latin_cat



Category: Sharpe - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-07
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/latin_cat/pseuds/latin_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation in India.  (Set post-<i>Fortress</i>.)  Prompt "Exotic".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exchange

“Well, what do you think?”

“It’s a little…" Sharpe desperately searched for the right word. “Exotic.”

“That does rather go without saying.”

“’Spose…”

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think it’s nice… But I’m not sure it’s really you.”

“Oh.” Wellesley’s face fell. “It’s a convenient way to get around, though,” he said hopefully.

“Probably,” Sharpe said, looking over the edge of the howdah to the ground which seemed very far below them. “But I think I’d prefer a carriage.”

The General sighed irritably as he reclined against the silk cushions, resplendant in the full red and gold of his dress uniform.

“Anybody would think you didn’t like elephants.”

“I didn’t say I never _liked_ elephants,” Sharpe said, though truthfully he wasn't that keen on the smell. “I just don’t think I like riding them.”

But he did have to admit that it was convenient. By the nature of the construction of a howdah relative to the size of the elephant there was not much room for more than three people, which meant that the General’s escort was on the ground and out of sight, along with any staff or ADCs who might have wished to join them. It also, along with its very comfortable silk cushions, had curtains that could be drawn shut if the occupants wanted extra privacy – which the General had assured Sharpe with a meaningful glance earlier when he had been invited along, their confidential conversation would need. He had also been assured that the driver was a mute, and on the whole the people out here tended to be far more open-minded about… certain things.

“But you admit it does have its advantages?” Wellesley pressed the point.

“Oh aye, but a carriage is better.” Sharpe squirmed. “I mean, I know you’re General an’ everything, and you have every right to; but it looks a bit… foreign. ‘S only a blessing you ain’t wearing a silk dress or a towel on your head.”

Because it reminded him of Pohlmann and Dodd; two Europeans who had won fame and favour in India and had strode to fulfil their own ambitions, acquiring riches and luxury along the way. Of course, Sharpe never thought that Wellesley would for a minute; but it did not mean that he would never be tempted.

Wellesley turned and caught Sharpe’s worried expression, and smiled.

“Don’t worry, I have no intention to set myself up as a princeling,” he said. “Richard would have my hide! Besides, I need to go home.” He frowned, looking out as the countryside went past; the pleasant grassland beside the river where cows lowed and children played amongst women washing clothes and fetching water. “There’s a young soldier, Bonaparte, taken over the government of the Assemblies in France. Has great ideas for the Republic – namely concerning the expansion of its territories – and has started to act on some of those plans. War is coming to Europe again, and in order to play a part in it I need to be back in London. A General halfway around the world is no use at all.”

Sharpe’s heart sank. Out here in India, though still a lowly ensign, Wellesley could keep him close with whatever excuse he liked; but if he was going home that would mean an end to these pleasant days, and once parted it would be almost impossible to find a way to come back together again. And Sharpe did not wish to think about that. Uncertainly, he took hold of the General’s hand.

“But not yet,” he said, a hopeful tone creeping into his voice. “You don’t have to go yet.”

Wellesley took in Sharpe's expression as soft green eyes looked askance, and returned the pressure, squeezing Sharpe’s hand tenderly.

“Not yet,” he echoed. Then he smiled. “Close the curtains, would you, Richard?”


End file.
